


I Wish You Spoke Enochian

by Taifics



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A night off, Bar, Canon-like Behaviour, Canon-like Subtext, Castiel Deals With Human World, Castiel Does Not Understand Jokes, Castiel is sick, Character Study, Communication Failure, Dean Sucks At Emotional Talks, Dean and Castiel Go For a Beer, Dean is Jerk, Depressed Castiel, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Castiel Being Sad Netflix Junkie, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Curse Castiel, Pre-Castiel/Dean Winchester, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taifics/pseuds/Taifics
Summary: Dean and Castiel are going for a beer together. Just a pleasant night off! What can possibly go wrong? Well, everything!A lot of interspecies comunication failures, unspoken issues and tons of overthinking.





	I Wish You Spoke Enochian

''Do you wanna go out somewhere together? Beer, maybe?'' the question was asked by the green-eyed man who was wearing casual red plaid shirt and was leaning carelessly against the kitchen wall. He was tall, solid, freckled and very human.

Castiel looked up at him with his usual expression: deeply concerned, full of nearly scientific interest with a little smidge of hesitation.

''Are you asking me to go to the bar with you, Dean?'' the angel's head tilted slightly to the right side as he asked back.

''No,'' Dean sighed visbly amused, but also rolling his eyes impatiently, ''I'm asking you to dye you feathers pink.''

Castiel frowned.

''I don't understand why would I do that?'' he replied observing Dean's face like he was trying to solve mahematical equation. ''It would be difficult if not completely impossible as my wings, well, their remains, are way beyond human perception and so human tools as well. Supposing the paint was of celestial origin, maybe...''

Then he was rewarded with another green eye-roll. ''Man, stop it, stop'', Dean interrupted him right there, ''I just wanna go out, okay? Sam's busy, digging up the Darkness lore, you seem to be doing just fine so I thought we could... Do I really have to waste so much time just to get you out of here? Will you go for a beer with me or not?''

''Oh,'' the angel gasped simply, casting his eyes down and staring at the kitchen table like it was the most intruguing object he had ever seen. And obviously it was not. He had seen much more items worth of his attention than that particular, old, worn-out kitchen table...

After a few seconds of thoughtful silence he looked up genuenly perplexed. ''Why didn't you just say that right away?'' he asked innocently and then frowned even harder. ''And also how is going out for a beer connected with dying my feathers pink?''

Dean growled annoyed and chocked back lines like: ''You're livng down here since years so how's that even possible you can't have a normal human conversation?'' and ''Dude, you were human too, you should get the joke when you hear it!'' or ''What exactly don't you get here?''. Hunter closed his eyes instead. He settled, took a breath. ''Will you go then?'' he asked calmly, staring back at his still clearly bemused friend.

''Dean,'' Castiel started carefully, trying to put it right in his head. ''Do you really want to go out with me? Or it is just another attempt to ''drag me away from the idiot-box'' because ''it's no good to me'', or maybe you want to prove to me I'm useful to you though I'm well aware that lately I'm of no use at all. If so I must assure you I'm doing just fine and you don't have to...''

''Wait! What? Cas, man, seriously? I don't even... What? No! You overthink it,'' Dean replied quickly, doing his best to act naturally, but actually he seemed to be really upset underneath. ''Cut the crap, take your coat and we roll. That's it.''

''Okay,'' Cas agreed obediently and then smiled awkwardly. ''In that case... I suppose I can ''roll'' with you.''

Dean made some unidentified noise in the back of his throat, shook his head and so, well... they rolled.

 

***

 

The bar smelled of booze, ciggarets, sweat and cheap perfume, but Dean seemed to be perfectly comfortable with all of that. He was just empting his fourth or fifth bottle of pale ale, grining gleefully and gazing around from time to time.

''This is life,'' he announced happily, patting Cas on his shoulder.

''You mean alcohol, old rock music, half-naked females...''

''No, man, not that!'' Dean disagreed fiercly. ''You, me, free time, oudside world. Oh, well, some booze is nice, music too and chicks... Speaking of...''

And so the very human green-eyed man stood up quickly and swiftly drifted away towards some fair-haired woman who was just ordering another drink at the bar five feet away from them.

Castiel was watching Dean approaching her. The hunter winked playfully smiling, all charming, at least according to human standards. _To Dean standards_ , thought Castiel absent-mindedly.

The woman was obviously pleased with Dean's presence. She offered him a shy smile and said something the angel could not hear from afar. The hunter agreed on something willingly and laughed out shortly. He bought her a drink and took a stool next to her.

Cas bit down on his bottom lip, observing the whole scene. He cast eyes upon his own fifth-ish beer. There was a squirrel illustration on the label. How that little mammal was associated with popular alcoholic beverage, he could not comprehend, but there it was with fluffy tail framing oval print decorated with some almost unreadable fancy writing. Castiel sighed, scratching on the label lightly, unknowingly.

He was still uneasy with living down on Earth, desperately trying to understand the world around him, even (though he would be ashamed to admit it) looking for clues in TV... He was just so lost. The feeling he was not much of use to Winchesters after that weakening Rowena's ''attack dog spell'' and the awareness of countless of his very own previous failures was not helping and, dammit, he could not even get why the squirrel was on the bottle of beer?! Human world never ceased to amaze him... and scare him too.

Oh, he understood that what Dean said about ''dying his feathers pink'' was some sort of a joke. Of course! But... _of course_ he did not get that at first and, _of course_ , he still did not know how was that supposed to be funny? Was it about the colour? The fact that pink was usually associated with females? Was it then a joke based on antilogy because his current vessel was male? Or maybe it was down to his feathers? His wings were terminally damaged so it would not be funny at all, but cruel to joke about them. No, Dean would not be cruel to him. Not like that. So was it the colour then? Was that some sort of suggestion? Was there anything socially unacceptable about his vessel and manifestation of its gender? If so why he did not notice it earlier? It has been years since he possessed Jimmy! Oh, but Dean was into females so maybe it was a compliment? No, but Dean was, as he used to say, ''straight as an arrow'' and his present body was not female. Cas might have been awkward on occasion, yet he was not an imbecile. He knew what ''straight'' was. His own current vessel was straight. For Castiel it was natural to follow that pattern. And, apparently, so it was for his human surrounding.

The angel raised his head and took a quick peek to check the situation. Dean was laughing open-heartedly and so was the woman, but, even so, she was still blushing shyly. They were sitting very close, brushing their arms.

Castiel frowned and took a sip of his ale. Its taste was disappointing. Chemical, a bit herbal, a bit yeasty and a lot like hydrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide. And, obviously, beverage itself was not affecting him at all. Cas sighed saddly, suddenly missing being human.

Then he heard his name. It was Dean. Of course, who else could it be? Well, it could have been a demon ready to slaughter him, angel willing to rip his heart right from his chest, it could have been even some of the other hunters, wanting to put an end to pet angel of the Winchesters... _Pet angel_? Why pet? He was no pet!

''Cas!'' he heard it again. Dean was gesturing vividly towards the angel to come and join him by the side of fair-haired woman. ''Come on!'' The hunter winked in his direction showing him thumbs-up from behind her back. She was smiling invitingly, smiling right at _him_ , at _Cas_.

Feeling a wave of sudden heat burning inside his stomach, the angel stood up, grabbed his beer and went slowly to join them. He had a bad feeling about that. He did not like the feeling. Not in the slightest.

''Hey, Cas, this is Hope,'' Dean introduced the woman, who tilted her head to the side, never stop smiling and gave the angel long and very vigilant look. Was she... What was the phrase? _Checking him?_

''Hi, Cas,'' she said with her voice was warm, very trustworthy. ''Nice to meet you.'' She waved her palm shortly, subtly, wiggling her long, delicate fingers.

''Hi,'' Castiel replied automatically. ''Uh, nice to meet you too.''

Before the awkward silence had a chance to sneak in, Dean pointed towards the stool by the other side of Hope, ''Come, have a seat. We were just talking about you, man! About, well, you being you...''

Castiel squinted. ''Me... being me? I'm not sure if I...''

''Oh, you know,'' Dean interrupted him, ''about the times when you were a teacher at school? You know, religious education? Kids?''

''What?'' Cas was truly confused. Why was Dean lying about him to that woman? Why was...

''You know...'' the hunter was giving him _the look_ , one of those meaningful looks full of hidden, but not-hidden meaning that Castiel could never actually get what they meant however hard he was trying to do so. What was it about? He had no idea. Unless... Unless, Dean wanted to... _Dean_... The angel growled internally.

''Oh, yeah, I know,'' he said out loud with some barely audible emphasis, ''I remember. Teaching. Yes...''

''See,'' Dean babbled merrily, turning to Hope whose face went from tiny bit suspicious to politely intrigued in seconds. ''Hope here was a teacher too. English teacher in high school so I thought, well, you have hell of a lot in common, haven't you? She's a bit shy too and, guess what, she's a kind of believer just like you. ( _Religious_ , Dean mouthed and gave him a small nod.) Why wouldn't you two, crazy kids, have some nice chat then? I'll be right back. Nature's calling. Right!'' and before Cas could react anyhow Dean was gone. Simply gone. Castiel started to wonder how was that even possible for human being to move so quickly? Maybe he should check if Dean was not possessed or...

''Well, then... Cas...'' Hope's voice came out of nowhere, breaking his chain of thoughts. ''Where were you teaching? Somewhere around?'' she asked and took a sip of some unidentified and, very possibly, poisonous blue liquor she had in her glass. There was a tiny umbrella sticking out of it. What was it for, anyway? Castiel narrowed his eyes.

''Are you there?'' Hope asked with hesitation in her voice after about thirty long and very quiet seconds.

''Oh-uh...'' Castiel stammered, going back to reality. ''Yes, I was teaching,'' he said not even trying to sound natural.

''Uh, yeah... That was not the question, but... Dean told me you're a bit shy and... weird too so...'' the woman was clearly bewildered, not quite knowing where she wanted to go with that conversation, but she was also... smiling and her smile was honest, innocent, not fitting to the dirty pub, late hour, all of that, the noise...

The angel made a poor attempt at smiling back.

''I was never actually a teacher. I have nothing I could teach young human beings and I know very little about kids in general,'' he said out loud, watching Hope's face expressing all sorts of emotions: confusion, shock, sadness, disappointment and also something else... probably it was an expression that human face could reflect when the worst conclusion they had in mind earlier happened to be the right one.

''Figures,'' she said, casting her eyes down.

She seemed to be good, humble person... Castiel wished he could offer her something else. Jimmy would like her...

Actually, a lot of what Castiel knew, liked, understood about the world was originally based on what his vessel knew, liked... Well, honestly, the vessel was always similar to an angel who possessed it. It was no coincidence, not just DNA, strong body and mind that made human the right vessel for certain angel. There were the similarities, the more the better, between human and angel that made them compatibile. Once human was possessed his soul was in constant close proximity of angel's grace what made both human and celestial being bonded. The bond had nothing to do with mind-reading... It was far beyond that... Angels were not supposed to violate minds of their vessels in such fashion, yet they could share deep, empathc, emotional-reading relationship on nearly telepathic level. Thus Castiel was a lot like Jimmy and so Jimmy was a lot like Castiel in some bizzare sense. Castiel was learning from Jimmy, adapting his tastes to his own and so... He just realised that Hope... Hope was a woman Jimmy would love and so Castiel would love her to. Was it something he stole from his vessel? Taste for gentle, neighbour-like woman, caring and kind-hearted? Or was it Castiel's own taste; one of those similarities that made Jimmy a good vessel for Castiel? He did not know. He knew only that he did not want to lie to her, hurt her, engage in any physical activities Dean would surely recommend. That did not seem to be proper.

''Excuse me,'' Castiel said as politely as he could, giving her apologetic look and stood up.

She made a quick nod. That was it. He went away.

He decided to abandon the leftovers of his beer. It was disgusting anyway... Additionaly, however hard he tried, he still could not grasp the concept of squirrel on its label what made what's left of his old human sympathy for that beverage turn into sheer frustration.

He intenteded to find Dean instead, but then he felt oddly reluctant to do so.

He sighed, feeling very old and very spent and then he aimed towards the exit, passing some leather-clad motorcycle gang members, a bunch of giggling women and a group of tipsy youngsters, taking photos of their own faces with supposedly ''cool'' expressions. Selfies? Yes, probably that was the expression.

He had opened the door and the cool night air got instantly into his lungs. His grace was not that strong anymore, not that overwhelming as it once was so he could feel it. Just a bit. Although maybe it was just his imagination? Post-human remains of what it felt like to actually feel the air? Its freshness, dampness, foggy smell of rotting leaves, of recent rain...

He let himself go further, down the line, step by step, strolling idly towards the bunker. They walked by foot all the way so that Dean could, as he said, ''get wasted if he wished so''. It was maybe forty minutes walk? Maybe fifty? Nice walk right into the darkness of woods with a flashlight. Cas had decided he could do without a flashlight so he hadn't one. He could see better than any human and, besides, the moon was full on the sky so it was not neccessary anyway.

Castiel was walking, leaving the pub behind. Dean could call him if he wanted to. The angel, though, wished he did not. Why? Was he angry at Dean? Why would he be? Because Dean was trying to find him a date witout his consent? Because he even thought Castiel would wish to look for an occasion to ''get laid'' in some dirty, overcrowded bar? Because he thought Castiel would even need such distraction? No. That was an absurd.

''Cas!'' he heard the calling, he recognized the voice and its roughness told him its owner was in fact a bit... wasted. The angel kept walking. ''Castiel!''

The sound of his full name that Dean barely ever used made him turn around.

''Hello, Dean,'' he spoke, stopping and watching Dean catching up with him.

''Man...'' Dean gasped, breathing heavily. He must had been running and in such state it could not have been easy. ''Why did you just leave? The girl was a peach! You know... You can't just walk away like that, Cas... It's not... It's rude!''

''Dean,'' he said pitifully, observing his friend's flushed cheeks, his difficulties with standing still... ''Dean, I think we should go home.''

Dean tugged at the sleeve of Cas's coat. ''Home? What for? It's not even the morning!''

''It's late enough,'' the angel disagreed, trying to pull his arm out of the tigh grip and failed.

Dean was observing him with a fine mixture of shock and denial in his eyes and not letting go of him. ''Nah!'' He slurred. ''Nah, it's nah.''

Castiel rolled his eyes. ''Dean, you're not sober. Let me take you home before you do something stupid.''

''Like what?!'' Dean asked, nearly screaming out of sudden.

''Like that!'' growled the angel whose vessel's heart nearly stopped beating because of that.

''Or stupid like, dunno... Taking you out? You mean that kinda stupid?'' Dean said still holding his hand wrapped tightly around Castiel's arm.

The angel cast his eyes upon the hunter. ''What do you mean, exactly?''

''Just what I'm sayin'.''

And there it was, the moment of silence when Cas was just staring at Dean with his usual frown and his worried eyes fulfilled with unidentified sad emotions and Dean was looking back at him with all his vengeful rage.

''I'm sorry to disappoint you,'' Castiel spoke finally, managing to set his hand free of Dean's embrace. He gave his friend one last look and walked away quickly. The hunter was calling, cursing him probably, but numb thud of blood rushing through his vessel's veins made it sound like the man was calling from under the water. The angel heard his own name, though. Once, twice, three times. He ignored it and soon he was all alone.

Castiel felt like he was running away fueled by pure spite and bitterness.

Why ever did Dean ask him to go anywhere? He was of no use! He told him that and it was not about some pityful self-loathing, it was the truth. He could not hunt, well, he was a pretty lame hunter, anyway, he proved it, he was also an awful angel and socially incapable, awkward human. Why they could not leave him alone to watch TV? He did not need sleep, nor food, he did not take too much space, he was not bothering anyone, then why Dean had to pretend he wanted to spend time with him? Possibly, Dean was just feeling guilty for ignoring Cas. The angel was one of Winchesters's oldest allies... the oldest alive perhaps. He should not have then! Winchesters gave him home and let him stay. Was that not enough? Everything else was no one's, but Castiel's own fault.

The angel was walking fast, very fast, faster that he intended to, maybe to wipe away the terrible feeling in his stomach (Why was it there? He was no human, no human, anymore!). He could not break the chain of thoughts full of Dean's angry face, flashbacks of dead angels in Heaven... Angels he killed himself, pretending he was God (lame God), of angels falling, of Dean telling him he could not stay, of living in the streets... Cold, cold, so cold... Hungry... Why was all of this so confusing? Why was free will, the great gift, such punishment for him? Maybe because it was never meant for the angels?

 _Where was Dean?_ He turned back...

''I... do not recognize this place...'', he stated out loud, to his own surprise finding he was... lost. Castiel stopped. He was in the middle of the forest, on some anonymous path with moon as the only source of light. How long had he been walking? Hour?

Where was Dean?

''Dean?!'' he called out helplessly. ''Dean...'' he whispered. Dean was not there.

He was alone.

 

***

 

Dean was far too proud and definitely not wasted enough to go after Castiel. He was just standing there and yelling at the thin air...

''You're righteous son of a bitch, you know that, Cas! Cas, come back here! You're not walking away on me! You're not! Castiel, you're worst drinking buddy ever! Cas! I regret taking you anywhere! Yeah! Go! Run away like you do!''

His throat was sore after nearly ten minutes of screaming into nothingness. Why was he even mad at the angel? What was he expecting? Fun? Picking up girls at the bar? Gratitude because Dean actually tried to make that miserable bastard happy for once? And that was what he got in return? Cas walking away, all grumpy, ready to go back to his goddamn Netfilx or maybe just disappear for good? It would not be the first time Castiel was just gone.

Dean felt horrible. What if that friggin' fight had made Cas decide to leave again? Weakened after the curse, believing he was useless, Castiel all alone in the world ready to be killed by another reaper because he was so naive and there was some another PB&J offered. Just like a child...

''Cas?'' he asked the night tentatively, but obviously there was no answer.

He was alone.

 

***

 

Castiel got lost in the forest. He was an angel, he should have been able to find himself, he was a walking compass, wasn't he? Or rather he had used to be, but... His wings were shattered, his grace corrupted, his emotions far too human at times, his health ruined after the curse... He was nothing, but a baby in a trenchcoat... Well, technically it was an overcoat, but did that even matter? He was lost with no signal, angry at himself, his countless inabilities, Netflix, squirrel on the bottle, pink feathers and being a bad liar. He was bad everything. He always was.

''I'll leave,'' he stated firmly, passing the same tree for seventh time. ''Once I find my way out of this wilderness I'll take my belongings and leave... That's it.''

He was well-aware of being a burden for the Winchesters. Useless _pet angel_ , constantly forcing brothers to care for him, _the talking dog_ , _the famous spanner_... Not anymore.

''Where am I?'' he mumbled irritated, asking the moon for the answer. Moon remined silent.

 

***

 

Dean was probably an irreversible idiot or so he believed, nearly running, tripping and running through the bushes in the middle of the cold, September night, just because his celestial friend kept not answering his friggin' phone.

Right after the long festival of yelling at the thin air, the hunter went back to the pub, drank double whiskey shot, yet he was clrealy not enjoying it the same way he did before. He could not enjoy good, old booze! He called Sam and slurred something along the lines: ''Is angel home or nah?!''. Sam barked at him something about being barely functioning alcoholic unable to take care of their recovering friend, irresponsible and... no, Castiel was still out... Then Dean just pressed that funny red button on the screen, ending the long stream of concern, insults, smoothie-talking, all those Moose thingies, something, blah... He sighed and... Then he was in the woods, with no signal, no hope, flashlight lost somewhere...

He felt like an utter asshole, but at the same time he kept telling himself he was looking for Castiel to kick his feathery ass for being an idiot, for being ungrateful, for being whatever!

''Cas, you son of a bitch! Cas!'' he was yelling in the night, feeling the panic taking over him slowly and, as he kept telling himself, senslessly. Goddammit, Castiel was badass angel, wasn't he? Not just some occasionally awkward nerd, no, but the actual badass who could stand pain, tortures, failures, death, over and over again to return to them... to him with those idiotic sad eyes of beaten puppy. He could not stand that happening, actually. The thought of Cas suffering made him want to punch something. Hard. So he did... The tree. He. Punched. The. FUCKING TREE! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!

''Fuck!'', he yelled, jumping back and looking down to see blood nearly black in the darkness of the night, appearing quickly on his knuckles, its droplets dripping off the fingers. ''Fuckin' fuck!''

The pain was sobering and annoying as stupid pain can be. He was pissed at himself for doing such thing and for what reason, again? Not because Cas being hurt made him upset to such extent! No. It could not have been just that because THAT would be totally bonkers, creepy even and... God, how much he hated that situation! He just wanted the friggin' beer, nice girl and fun! Was that too much or what?

''I hate you!'' he announced loudly full of spite, gazing angrily at that riddiculously wounded, hurting hand. Then he looked up at the tree he punched and frowned at it. ''I hate you too!''

 

***

 

Cas felt weak. It was sudden like a wash of blurry, sleepy nothingness sweeping him off his feet and he was... on the ground. On moss-smelling, wet ground between two pines and both of them high, reaching up to the moon... So high...

It could not be just alcohol as it was not enough for him anymore. Not that amount anyway, but... Something else. He was trembling and that was pretty surprising. Castiel looked at his palms and they were shaking furiously and... Funny... He was not controlling that happening!

The angel smiled, seeing far too many fingers.

''Stupid fingers,'' he said, chocking back idiotic urge to laugh, ''you can't do that.''

He was feeling very comfortable like he could sleep, dream the dream, sleep with dreams like when he was human. He smiled again happily that the dreams are in the menu again.

Dreams. Humans did not know how beautiful was the gift of dreams... Not reality, but dreams... Reality...

''I hate you!'' he heard Dean's voice coming from afar like an echo.

''So nightmares then...'' Castiel mumbled, feeling his bottom lip trembling too, feeling all the bliss running away... Was that his name? ''Dean...'' he managed to say, fading away.

 

***

 

The hunter stood still, barely even breathing, listenig... He heard the words spoken in a low, rough voice he knew. The voice was alarmingly quiet and breaking.

''Dammit,'' he barked at himself. ''CAS!'' he cried, moving on, doing his best to spot any movement in the pale moonlight.

''Dean...''

''Cas?!'' he asked, ripping the bushes apart and casting his eyes down to see the pile of familiar trenchcoat, bright white shirt... ''CAS!''

He kneeled down immediately, grabing the angel by his shoulders and shaking him violently. He was trying not to notice that his friend's body was trembling all over, face nearly as white as the shirt... or was it just the moonlight?

''Castiel, you idiot, wake up!'' he begged, pulling Cas up to sit, forcing him to lean back against the tree behind him and moving him a little bit closer to himself. ''Don't do that to me, man, don't sleep, hey, hey! You hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME?!''

''Dean...'' Castiel's voice was painfully quiet. ''Don't be mad...''

''I'm not, hey, I'm not mad. Don't... Just don't sleep, can you, buddy? Hey!'' the hunter's palms claspped angel's face, hoping the touch would bring him back somehow and, as a matter of fact, it was working a bit. Castiel was trying to focus his gaze on Dean's face.

''Yes, you are,'' the angel decided quietly and passed out for good.

 

***

 

Dean was a mess, a real, living and breathing mess, a walking piece of crap. Castiel was unconscious, possibly badly weakened after the nice and lovely angry trip to the woods in the middle of the horribly cold night inspired by idiocy of Dean Winchester himself... 'cause, yeah, why the hell not!

The angel was alive, still shaking now and then, but his breathing was slow, deep and steady just like he was asleep out of exhaustation... which was, by the way, even worse somehow as the angels, even those with their graces running slightly low, were not supposed to sleep at all. Like never ever.

Dean was a mess.

His hands were still absent-mindedly touching Castiel's face, fingers tracing the jawline, sensing the shadow of stubble, wandering up to his forehead, tossing wild, nearly black hair aside.

Dean was a mess.

''Hey, Cas...'' he whispered hopelessly. ''I'm sorry, man.''

Then he noticed his own hands on angel's face and looked at them confused, blinked and collected himself.

''Alright, buddy, there we go...'' he took Castiel's arm, put it around his own shoulders and tried to stand up. The first attempt was a complete diseaster. The angel was smaller, nevertheless he was not as light as one might expect. The annoying buzz of alcohol drank that night was of no help at all. He nearly fell over and only strong will and a tree helped him not to collapse with his unconscious friend.

''Step by step...'' Dean mumbled with effort, dragging the angel towards... Well, in general direction of the bunker!

The walk was not pleasant... and that was a huge understatement – it was a nightmare. Fine mixture of heavy angel, wearing-off alcohol, hunger, cold and occasional attacks of clearly pissed bushes made the night into one of the biggest failures of the latest time in Dean's life. And that was something when you think of realising God's evil sister to the world. Additionaly, the hunter felt like crap for pushing Castiel too much, for yelling at him, for letting him go alone and for leaving him to his own devices for almost a month just because the angel was weak and could not help them hunting. God, they just wanted Cas to juice up a little bit, that was all! But, instead, the idiot locked himself up in his room all alone and went into that awfully resigned, depressed, TV junkie mode.

The real tragedy, though, was that Dean could not help Castiel. He could not offer him any real emotional support because... How the hell was he even supposed to offer that? What could he do? Offer Cas to hold hands, cry a bit together possibly or... WHAT? Oh! Great idea! Eureka! Why not take Cas out for a beer, get him a girl... What cheers Dean cheers everybody!

He smiled bitterly to himself. The outcome was... dragging even more depressed, weakened, damaged in so many ways, angel back to the bunker.

''Sweet,'' Dean whispered, hating himself deeply.

Suddenly, the lifeless bag of an angel he was holding shifted slightly, angling his head towards Dean's.

''What is happening?'' Castiel's voice was very quiet like the wind rustling through the leaves of trees.

''We're going home,'' Dean replied, stopping.

''Home?''

''The bunker.''

''Where are we?''

''I don't quite know... How do you feel, buddy?''

''Badly. I'm... Oh, I...'''

''Can you walk a bit? I'll hold you, but if you could make use of your feet that would be awesome.''

The angel moved, growled and started walking painfully slowly, trembling all over.

''Woah, stop there, tiger!'' Dean gasped, holding Cas tigher. ''If you feel too weak I can drag you back.''

''No, I've got this,'' Cas said, stubbornly pushing Dean forward.

The angel made a few wobbly steps, tripped, regained balance, made another few steps and collapsed, leaning all the way on Dean.

''Oh,'' the hunter groaned, struggling not to fall for a moment and then he gripped Castiel's arm firmly. ''You've got this, yeah? I see,'' he spoke grouchily, but moved ahead.

''I'm sorry, Dean,'' Castiel said after painfully long while.

The hunter shifted uncomfortably. ''For what?''

''For not getting...'' he chocked out with audible effort. ''The joke.''

''The... What?'' Dean asked surprised.

''About the feathers.''

''What? What joke?'' Dean sounded genuenly worried. He was worried! Did that dorky angel lost his mind... again? Was it some concussion? He did not check if his head was fine... There was no blood, he could swear, but...

''About dying them pink.''

Dean frowned, now seriously upset.

''You said that... about dying my feathers pink when you were inviting... me... to go out,'' Castiel was speaking slowly, quietly, stammering slightly.

''The... What, again?'' Dean almost laughed with relief and... ''Man, really? Of everything you could be apologizing for, this is what you picked?''

''Yes.''

''It was not a... It was not even a joke! Just a stupid thing jerk can say for no reason. Things without meaning you say ''just because'', you know...''

''Just... because?''

''Yeah.''

The moment of silence that followed that simple reply was unnaturally long. Only occasional coughing, constant heavy breathing and the rustling of tearing wild bushes apart were signs of those two walking through the forsest.

''Why are squirrels on beer labels?''

Dean stopped suddenly and so Cas stopped too. The hunter looked down at the angel who was seemingly contemplating the ground or his own two feet. He did not reacted to that abrupt break, nor he said anything more.

''Cas,'' Dean's voice low and demanding.

''Hello, Dean,'' the angel replied senslessly, finally tilting his head up to gaze back at him. His face was pale, chapped lips parted. He looked awful.

Dean did not like it. ''Are you alright?''

''Confused,'' Castiel stated sluggishly. ''I don't know why are squirrels on beer labels, why dying feathers pink is widely recognised as ''just because'', why couldn't you leave me in the bunker, I do not understand either. I don't even know why are you still here?''

Dean did not say anything. Not at first. He was just staring at Castiel, mirroring typical Castiel-staring-at-Dean move.

''I don't know why are the squirrels on beer bottles,'' the hunter spoke eventually with his voice breaking a little bit. ''Maybe because they're adorable little bastards.''

''Oh,'' mumbled the angel.

''I'm sorry, Cas,'' Dean whispered because speaking too loud was far too difficult. ''I'm an uttter asshole. I just thought... I wanted... You know what? I'm confused too. I don't know what I wanted, anymore. Except you. I wanted you to be... happy. But I... I screwed it up, man.''

''No, you didn't,'' came the muffled voice. Muffled because at some point angel's head fell against Dean's shoulder with his face nestled on hunter's chest. He could feel tiny smile spreading across Cas's lips. ''I'm not easy one to be cheered, I guess.''

''Hell, you're not,'' Dean smiled and then turned serious. ''Now, listen to me, dorky, little idiot. Don't you ever dare to get lost again, do you hear me? Don't you ever leave me like that.''

''You didn't seem to mind it...''

Dean growled. ''Next time just punch me in the face then I will mind it, get that? Listen, I care for you.''

Castiel swallowed hardly.

''Yes, I care. You will never get how much I do because I'm an idiot and I'll never tell you.'' Dean sighed. Male pride be damned. ''I'm not good with that emotional talk, okay? I can't help you with what you're dealing with... I can only offer you beer and chick-picking advices. I... I can make you a burger. Really awesome one, but I can't... The thing is... I... I just want you to know... I've got your back. Always. Even if I'm not showing it much. And you... You don't get to be strong and doing super-duper hero stuff all the time. You don't have to be useful 'cause you're not a tool. You're my... our... friggin' angel. You're family. That's enough. You're enough. I promise you.''

The silence that fell right after the speech was the worst silence Dean could think about, one of the worst silences he had ever experienced. The hunter felt like an idiot and he was really embarrassed with everything he had said because it was not normal for him to tell things like that to some guy... Except... It was not ''some guy''. It was Cas. Little, awkward, nerd angel. Not exactly a regular guy, but more like an alien, E.T., adorable not-human creature, not getting basics and getting a lot of what no one in the world could ever get. Nothing was simple when it came to Castiel because there was no way to label him.

''Cas,'' Dean spoke because he could deal with the prolonging silence, ''are you there?''

At first there was only deep raspy breathing and no words, but then...

''Dean,'' he said softly with his voice breaking, head cast down. ''I wish you spoke Enochian.''

That was it. He did not say anything more. Dean was not exactly sure what he was supposed to say to that. Was he even suppose to say something at all? What Cas meant by that? Was English not enough to say... whatever he intended to say?

The hunter blinked a few times to clear his mind.

''I, uh, think we should get going,'' Cas mumbled awkwardly, shifing slightly, a bit like he wanted to back off, but also... not back off.

The hunter looked at Cas, yet all he could see was tousled bush of dark hair. ''Uh, yeah, sure,'' he replied feeling stupidly; like ashamed, disappointed maybe, expecting something and being angry, puzzled... He was probably still not completely sober.

They moved. At first they could not find the proper rhythm; one was walking too slow, another too fast, taking too big or too small steps, too much to the left, too much to the right, but after a long, ungraceful series of almost falls and nearly tree collisions they pretty much synchronised their actions.

Both silent, both contemplating their own unspoken thoughts...

 

***

 

Castiel breathed in and out. Deeply. He let icy cold, damp air get into his lungs and for mere seconds he could swear there were goosebumps on the skin of his arms. The angel cheerished the moment so rare for the fully (well, almost fully...) powered seraph. The sensation was short, but intensive; freezing, exciting, itchy and then there was another, opposite sensation too – warm, solid, corporal. The feeling of someone's body pressed firmly against his own. It was reasurring. Odd and unusual, familiar and friendly.

The limp sansation, post-curse weakness was still there making every move slightly stiff, every step hard, yet it was under control as long as there were two of them walking side by side; one leaning, one holding. It was fine.

Castiel might not have known some things like why dying feathers pink was spoken ''just because'' or why somebody decided to put a squirrel on the bottle of pale ale (was it really about them being ''adorable little bastards''?), yet he knew other things for certain and those were left unspoken.

The angel moved his head up just a bit to steal a glance at the hunter; he was wearing that typical expression: the one of stubborn man, marching like a soldier towards the aim he was determined to achieve come hell or high water. Pale, freckled face, eyes black and sparkling in the night.

Dean might not have known some things too...

What a pity, truly, he could not speak Enochian!

Castiel smiled exhausted and let his head drop back where it was before.

 

**Author's Note:**

> With this piece I realized I'm almost unable to write fanfiction with obvious shipping! Why? Possibly because I'm not an angry, furious shipper. Essentially it means I can handle two characters I'd gladly see as a couple being just friends... but, at the same time, I do still cheerish every moment when their relation is not so clearly friend-like. I like the tension, the unspoken words, the vibe of uncertainty... I love the thought that there's something more than just some cliché-like romance or usual friendship going on there. And that's the way I wrote this one. I believe it gives every reader some personal space (if you know what I mean!) to read things into the story and I truly encourage you to so - read into it everything you want to! Use your free will and see it your way; as deep freindship, romantic love or something way beyond those two. ;)


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